


Nothing feels right but doing wrong

by killbot2000



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, Drunk Driving, F/F, Modern AU, Sadie abuses white privilege, Small Towns, Western Gothic, butch lesbian Sadie, its My fic and I get to make Sadie as gay as I want, rancher!sadie, spousal death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:06:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23788303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killbot2000/pseuds/killbot2000
Summary: Grief manifests differently in different people. In Sadie Adler, it’s falling in love with a criminal.
Relationships: Sadie Adler/Abigail Roberts Marston
Comments: 20
Kudos: 49





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from “Nothin’ feels right but doin’ wrong” by Sarah shook and the disarmers

The last drop of rain ran from the gutter, landing in overgrown grasses long dead. Her breath exhaled cold and dead into the winter morning, yet the freezing temperatures did not bring snow, only icy rain reminiscent of the grave. 

Everything was reminiscent of the grave this early. Sadie shifted her booted feet, her hands fiddling with a coffee cup since settled cold. The sun rose through the sopping trees; their Spanish moss like long drooping beards heavy with tears. She sniffled and took a sip of the coffee, winced, and set it down. 

Everything had come to pass, finally. The funeral had been Monday, a brisk evening gracefully free of rain but brought in wind with a fury. A small crowd stuffed the Colter church, their faces long and dress black, as per custom. She had worn a light blue shirt under the black blazer, and it had gotten a look from his mother as if to express her final disapproval before she followed her son into the grave. Sadie’d known that his mother never believed any woman would be good enough for her son, but she’d had the decency to hold back from telling the old hag to rot in hell. Tuesday they held the burial. Rain came down, pelting them all like a scene in a movie. Sadie wondered why no one seemed to die in summer. Who was sad in summer? Now it was Wednesday, and the worst had yet to come. 

The open frontier of grief, the empty land before her with but one hand to tend to it. Maybe she’d sell it. Jake would roll in his fresh grave. 

Sadie shook the cold coffee from her cup into the dirt and lit up a cigarette, standing to get blood flowing in her feet once again. More heavy white clouds began to roll in, promising a dreary day or the possibility of rain. She’d wished for once the heat of summer, the pounding sun on her back, the sweat on her neck. The work that kept her mind occupied and her hands busy, even with the fresh and gaping wound of where her husband once was. 

The front door creaked when she opened it, the worn brass handle squeaking as usual. Sadie set the empty coffee cup in the sink, nestling it in a stack of dirty bowls. She flipped on the tap and let it run only to watch as the water filled the cup and run down the sides like some kind of public fountain, if public fountains were made of chipped blue porcelain. She turned the tap off. 

Then she whistled, the sound of the dog jumping off her bed and bounding through the hallway echoed off the walls. The Labrador loped into the kitchen, tail wagging and nose to the air, smelling for his master. 

“Hey, Buddy.” Sadie called, and when he saw her she knelt to pet him, his wide head and muzzle finding its way under her arm in a dog’s way of hugging. Or at least she liked to think so. “How’re you doin,’ boy?” She scratched behind his ears, tail thumping against a cabinet. Then she dropped her hand and Buddy brought his head up, scanning the rest of the room, waiting. 

“He ain’t comin’ home today, Bud.” She told him. A sob worked its way up her throat but she held back vocalizing it, smothering it in clenched teeth, just to keep it together for her dog. Buddy looked at her with his droopy brown eyes, tail thumping again, and let out a small bark. Sadie smiled, her eyes clouded with tears, and scratched his head. “Lets go outside, c’mon boy.” 

She stood and lead him out the front door, pulling her collar against the brisk wind that greeted her. The jacket didn’t have a hood to keep her hair in place, and it whipped around her face in its unkempt braid, most of it loose now. Sadie opened the door to her truck and encouraged Buddy in and he jumped into the cabin and settled onto the passenger seat. 

“Good boy, Buddy.” 

The woman and her dog drove in silence out into the pasture, wheels leaving their chiseled tracks in the mud. Buddy just watched her with an expectant look only dogs could pull for so long and so shamelessly. 

“He ain’t comin.’” Sadie insisted, again to the brown dog. 

Outside the cabin the sun hung directly overhead now. The blue of the sky was pleasant yet cold, and the yellow sun was more of a pasty white. Still, the corpses of summer still rotted on the branches of their apple trees, they rotted with the fallen leaves. They rotted six feet under topsoil, inside an impeccable, airtight casket. So would he rot? Or would he lay there forever, some terrible, unwilling mummy? Jake had wanted his ashes scattered, joking to her one past day that she could use him as fertilizer for the garden, but his mother, militant Catholic as she was, insisted on a traditional funeral. He didn’t have a will, after all. Neither of them did. They were relatively young, childless, what was the harm? In the event of either of their unlikely deaths, all possessions would go to the other. 

And now Sadie realized she didn’t want it. Any of it. 

The ranch, of course, was her livelihood, the only thing she knew how to do. Throwing that away would be no better than killing herself. 

But if tied itself so directly to him that every day waking up was like looking directly into his face. His face now cold and harsh, death unforgiving in its wrinkles and blemishes. 

Buddy barked at her, impatient to be let out. She patted his head and opened the truck door and slid out, the dog following nearly on top of her. He barked again and ran into the barn, probably to find something discarded to eat. He was a stocky dog already but a few extra pounds couldn’t hurt him this winter. As the thought entered her head, a growl worked it way up her stomach, asking for something other than coffee. 

Quick as it rose, the sun set, sending her and her farm and her dog into a twilight that lasted hours. She ate a cold dinner at a one person table that was somehow too large. 

“Oh Buddy, what am I to do?” She told the dog then scooped a cold piece of meat up with her fork and flopped it onto the ground for him. 

He quickly swallowed it, barely chewing, then sat back on his haunches to wait for more. Long ago he’d perfected a guilty beggars stare. 

“I ain’t givin’ in. You already got more’n what’s good for you, dog.” 

Sadie set another dish into the overflowing sink, pushing it into a crevice not taken up by another cup or spoon. When she got back, she told herself, she’d clean. Then she took up a jacket, bid Buddy farewell, and climbed back into her pickup. 

The drive into town clocked into about twenty minutes, dependent on who drove. Jake managed 25 and Sadie came in under 18. ‘I don’t drive fast, you just drive slow.’ Never came across well. He worried. Well which one was in the casket now? 

She shouldn’t joke like that but the thought made her spirits lighter. And the radio droned on into the fading light. Some honky-tonk country song about heartbreak. 

The bar sign announced itself boldly yet dignified against the early nights. Patrons haunted the porch with a beer and cigarettes, the owner long since declaring the inside smoke-free since her niece developed asthma. Sadie wasn’t sure if she knew what it was she was selling to the clientele because it sure as hell wasn't healthier than tobacco.

Inside was still just as smoky as it had been before the ban, but the TV played loud and so did the other bar goers. Perfect to fall into a corner and watch the night pass by. 

“Can I get whatever’s on tap?” Sadie approached the bar and straddled a barstool. 

The bartender eyed her, “Ms. Adler? I done heard about your husband. Terrible thing.” 

“Thanks, Annie.” Sadie held up the beer glass and toasted her. “Here’s to joining him one day.”

“Hopefully not too soon.” Annie told her and began to wipe down the bar. “Are you doin’ alright?” 

“Well we buried him yesterday and I don’t rightly know what to do with myself yet. I’m guessing the answer is drink.” 

Annie watched her down half the glass with detached concern. 

“You know drinkin’ ain’t the answer, no matter what my boss says.” 

Sadie laughed, “Annie how come I ain’t married you? You ain’t dead yet.”

“Cause I work at a bar all night and you’re a rancher. Tell you what, next round is on me ‘cause looks like you need it.” 

“Can’t argue there.” She turned on her stool to watch the remainder of the game on the dying technicolor TV. 

Two hours and five or six beers later a lady comes up to her. Sadie couldn’t recall her face the next day but she remembered her dark hair, nearly pitch black and pinned into the neatest bun Sadie’d ever seen. 

“Care to dance, cowboy?” The woman offered her hand. 

Sadie watched it, swimming before her in all the lights of the bar as well as the horrendous orange shade of the bar's wooden flooring. 

“I had one too many.” She told her, hoping she didn’t sound too far gone. 

“I’m sure you’re a great dancer.” The woman countered, her face softening into a smile. Sadie couldn’t help it. 

She stumbled out into the dance floor and, honestly, didn’t remember the rest. Some of the same country music on the radio clashing loudly with the TV. The next thing she knew was sitting in an empty booth with a cup of water on the table, steadily coming down. The cold night air outside sobered her up more than any water would and Sadie pulled herself into her truck. 

She wasn’t drunk but she sure as hell wasn't sober and she prayed to whatever little ceramic angel sat on her fireplace mantle. It’d been a gift from Jake's mother. 

It also didn’t prove to be to protect her, but Jake (fat lot of good that did him), evidenced by the red and blue sirens behind her. Sadie let out a long sigh, sending all the breath out of her lungs into the cabin of the truck smelling like beer. She pulled over and waited, rolling her window down. 

“Evenin,’ ma’am.” 

“Evenin,’ officer.” 

“That was some reckless drivin’ back there.” He commented, “License and registration, please.” 

“Sure thing.” She reached over in the glove box for her registration and into her back pocket for her wallet. 

“Shit.” 

The officer lifted an eyebrow and shone his flashlight a little farther into the cabin. Sadie looked in the console filled with napkins and on the floor covered in grocery bags filled with miscellaneous items and she suddenly remembered the dark haired lady from the bar, with her hands all over Sadie and probably in her pockets. The brown leather wallet left a loose back pocket in its absence, the denim worn in the corners, ripped in one. 

“Problem, ma’am?” 

“Well, officer, you see...”


	2. Two

One year later. 

The house under its arching wooden skeleton and lungs of thin linen curtains, let out a breath. Sadie swept the last of the leaves from the porch and they settled onto the dirt road. Inside, dust tried to settle back onto the furniture but she kept up with a damp rag and broom. It was the last good day of the year, and Sadie used it to clear out the house to settle in for the winter. Buddy watched her, his head on the floor between his large paws, a whisper of grey emerging on his muzzle and eyebrows. 

And her new pride and joy, Missy, a cloudy grey and white cattle dog, pranced along the perimeter of the yard, sniffing the collapsing half fence. Sadie blamed her for Buddy’s premature grey hairs dotting his broad and brown nose. 

“Missy.” She called after the dog squatted, calling them both back into the house. They ran in, heads low and tails wagging, all too eager as if they knew of the storm clouds hanging on the horizon. 

As soon as she shut the front door the phone rang. Sadie picked the phone from its cradle. 

“Hello.” 

“Ms. Adler?” 

“Who’s askin’?” 

“West Grizzlies County Sheriff’s department.” The man told her. The accent his voice carried told her he wasn’t local. Maybe the transfer from Saint Denis. 

“What can I do for you?” 

“We’d like you to come into the station today, if you have the time. I hate to dig up the past but some information about your uh, husband's death has come up.” 

“What kind of information? My Jake died in an accident. Ain’t no one to blame but the icy roads.” 

The officer sighed into the receiver. “It’s best if you come down and see for yourself. Davies is expectin’ you.” 

“I gotta ranch to run. I ain’t coming down unless it’s for good reason.” Then added, “Officer.” 

“Alright but only ‘cause the sheriff likes you Mrs. Adler. There’s been an anonymous tip about a band of criminals who’ve been seen in Ambarino as of late. We done some research and some events line up and we think foul play can’t be ruled out.” 

“You think he was murdered?” 

“The sheriff don’t think his death was an accident. Come down when you can.” And he hung up, the landline droning the dial tone. Sadie calmly set the phone back on the receiver and pushed it into its place. Then she grabbed the little side table with both hands and threw it into the wall, the spindly legs breaking, the phone letting out a plastic thwack as it hit the drywall. 

Buddy and Missy ran into the doorframe to the other room, twisting their necks to watch her, ears back, tails tucked. Their watery brown eyes watched her clench her fists, bring them to her head. 

“No, no, no. He’s fuckin’ lyin.’” 

Then the dogs ran back to her as she slid down the wall, sobbing into her hands. Buddy wagged his fat tail against the hardwood. She let them lick at her hands and arms as the last tears fell from her face. 

She drove out into the pasture and told the hands in the barn that she’d be gone for the rest of the day. They knew something was wrong but didn’t ask. She told them they could leave early after bringing the animals in and it cleared any air of contempt. 

The police station’d become familiar to her over the course of the last year. Not because she liked the inhabitants or needed something to do, but because she fell more and more into reckless habits. The drunk driving incident after Jake’s death was only the first in what was soon to be a long string of minor offenses and misdemeanors. They tolerated only so much, and while she had yet to serve time, she tried not to push it. Eventually her luck would run out. 

The sheriff waited at the front desk for her, his elbow on the counter, hunched over and speaking to the receptionist. He looked up as she entered. 

“Ms. Adler! How are the heifers?” He greeted her, not with cheer. 

She crossed her arms, “Better start ‘splainin’ Davies. I ain’t got time for shit like this.” 

“I think you’ll find that you do, Ms. Adler..” 

Sadie followed him into the back rooms and behind a door marked ‘Sheriff Davies’ on the frosted window with thick black letters. 

“You ain’t get that promotion yet?” 

Davies let out a laugh, a scoff. “Them higher ups ain’t impressed yet. Think my methods are too ‘forward.’” 

“And they’d be right. ‘Specially if you can overlook a DUI and several speeding violations by your favorite neighbor.” 

“You want me to change my mind, Sadie?” 

“Please, it’s Ms. Adler.” She corrected him, and smiled. His mustache gave a perpetual scowl but this one was for real. 

“Well, Ms. Adler, let’s not forget why we’re here.” The sheriff told her, and sat behind his wooden desk. The smile on her lips thinned and vanished, the anxiety and grief of the last year settling back into the forefront of her mind. Goddamn him. 

“Now I ain’t supposed to be showin’ you these, exactly so I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it quiet.” He looked at her with his one watery piercing eye and she nodded. From the inside of his desk drawer he brought a folder and let it fall open on the wood. He showed her a series of photographs. 

The first was Jake’s car, smashed to hell and back on the rail guard. 

“Why you showin’ me this?” 

“Sorry.” He threw another photo on the desk, this one where the car was still running, and a figure was a blur emerging from the shoulder. They wore a black coat and ski mask, what might’ve been a dark colored scarf whipping about behind them. Jake would’ve swerved to avoid colliding with them. 

Then Davies set the last photo down. Two figures, both wearing the black getup hunched over the ruins of the car. One was kneeling down near the cabin and where Jake’s body might’ve been. 

“Where the fuck did these come from?” Sadie was about to start shouting when Davies put his hands up in defense. 

“Security camera of the gas station down the road. We didn’t bother checking the tapes because we thought he’d just lost control. And while he did…” He pointed down to the photographs, Sadie’s silently streaming eyes looking down again for a moment. “It don’t look like it were just an accident. They wanted somethin’ from him.” 

“You know who they are?” She sniffed, refusing to break down in front of the sheriff, not while he still held information from her. 

Davies hesitated, “Now I don’t know if it’s best Ms. Adler-“ 

“Tell me Davies. This was my husband.” 

“I-“ He looked at her with his heavy eye and let out a tired breath that twitched the white hairs on his upper lip. “They’re working on it. There’s an investigation underway but we ain’t got nothing to go on, not to mention the manpower. If I could catch these guys, I would.” He said, simply, “No matter what it took.” 

“No matter?” 

“But I’m tied down by a mile’s worth of red tape, Ms. Adler. Bureaucrats and the like. But if the job was done, we wouldn’t look too closely on how it got that way.” 

“Alright.” She pushed out her wooden chair with a loud and hollow scrape. “I’ll be seein’ you, Sheriff.” 

Davies tipped his hat, “Ma’am. Word is that somethin’ nasty’s comin’ out of Spider Gorge as of recent. I’d advise you to stay well away.” 

“Spider Gorge?” Sadie almost let herself smile, “I’ll be sure to.” 

She sped home, the rain promised earlier beginning to fall and muddy her already dirty truck. 

When she got home she made a beeline for the garage where she kept the shells for the shotgun hanging above the mantle. It was for use as much as it was decoration. There were only a few boxes; guns had been more Jake’s thing so she hadn’t touched them nor restocked in the last year. She knew how to shoot but she couldn’t deny being rusty. Nothing some oil and a wire brush couldn’t fix. 

“Fuckin’ Davies. This is crazy.” She looked down to see Missy, who pranced expectantly on the concrete floor. “I ain’t got nothin’ for you.” She told the dog. 

The drive up the mountain turned the rain into sleet then into snow. She neglected to bring chains for the tires and prayed that it wouldn’t worsen by the time she drove back home. 

The snowfall came steady when she got up to Spider Gorge. She parked her truck along the side of the road and locked it manually, careful to avoid any loud noises before she actually reached the gorge. Then she pulled the soft gun case from the bed and slid the strap over her shoulder, drawing binoculars from a side pouch. Whether or not she would need to use it, or could use it, remained to be seen. 

In the worsening weather Sadie followed a deer path up the ridge that ran parallel with the river flowing down towards Colter. At the peak she settled down onto the frozen earth on her elbows and pulled the binoculars up to her eyes. A camp snuggled itself against the snowy mountain, blocked from the wind and snow. Multiple people, more fuzzy black dots to Sadie, busied themselves, moving from tent to tent, some not moving at all. 

It was the perfect vantage point to watch the camp. As soon as she settled in for the long haul, the spots began to move. Their patterns suggested alarm, and soon, another group overtook the camp. Sadie heard gunshots cracking across the gorge. 

“Shit.” 

She began to scramble, taking the gun case from off her shoulder and setting it into the snow. She began to unzip it when the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked came from behind her. 

“Hands up.” A lady’s firm voice told her. Sadie did as she was told and lifted her hands from her weapon. 

“Turn around.” 

She remained crouched but turned to see the woman. 

Her mouth worked faster than her brain could catch it. “Hey- I know you.” 

The dark lines of the woman’s eyebrows furrowed and Sadie knew, although she had been rash, that she was correct. She couldn’t forget that face, drunk as she had been. 

“You ain’t know shit.” The woman held the gun at Sadie then grabbed the case under Sadie’s hands. She tucked it under her free arm. “Stand up. Start walkin.’” 

Sadie obliged and began to pick her way back down the trail, hands still held out carefully in front of her. If she could find a way to trip the other woman there’d be a chance of easily overpowering her. The mountain flattened several feet ahead of her and she planned to make her move on her solitary captor. 

“What the hell, Roberts...” Another voice came from under the ridge. Sadie looked down to see another stranger standing on the road. “You can’t be collectin’ wild women out here.” 

“Shut up.” 

The old man looked up to Sadie, watching her step onto the road with shrewd eyes. He appeared unarmed, despite it. Sadie crept a look behind her and the woman was looking to her feet as she slipped down the snow to the pavement. In her distraction Sadie elbowed behind her, aiming up under the woman’s ribs. She gasped in surprise and Sadie wrestled away the handgun. 

“Put the case down.” Sadie instructed. “Kick it over here and I’ll be gone.” 

Her heart thudded in her chest and she could feel sweat bead in the heat of her upper lip, her eyes followed the movement of the woman’s arms. The old man several feet away made no motion to move. In fact he didn’t seem the least bit bothered. 

The woman kicked Sadie’s gun to her and Sadie crouched to grab it. 

“You with that camp?” 

“What camp?” The old man said and the woman rolled her eyes. 

“The damn camp in the gorge.” 

“I ain’t know no damn camp.” 

“Shut the hell up.” The woman told him and she lowered her hands. “You,” she pointed to Sadie, “Don’t go stickin’ your pretty nose where it don’t belong. Now get.” 

Sadie lowered the gun, dumbfounded, as the woman turned her back to her and began to walk in the direction of the camp. The old man looked back at her, seemingly apologetic, and they vanished into the snow. When they were out of sight Sadie sprinted to her truck.


	3. Three

The next morning she awoke to the wet tongue of Missy on her face and the grumble of the Labrador on her feet. Buddy looked at her with heavy eyes of misery as Missy yapped. Sadie pushed her away. 

They ran out into the yard when she opened the front door, steaming cup of coffee in her hand. The cup had been Jake’s favorite: a thick and glossy grey-white uneven porcelain with an olive green rim. He’d made it for Sadie, given it to her as a Christmas gift, then took to using it himself. Never one for modesty, her late husband. The echo of his hands was along every bump and ridge, along the misshapen handle and strokes of dark green. 

It didn’t matter now. She hated that he reminded her of himself in her things. That he was making sure she couldn’t forget he was gone. She had felt guilt even in rescuing a dog without him at her side. 

“Missy, leave it.” 

The dog set down what looked to be a bird that’d died somewhere in the corner of the yard. The feathers were mangled and dirt-stained. She trotted up to Sadie, pink tongue lolling and her jaw split in a grin. She reached out to pat the dog and pushed her away when Missy tried to give her kisses full of dead bird. 

Sadie spent the day out in the pasture, dragging buckets of concrete around for a new fence the hands were erecting for cattle. They were a relatively small ranch, they tended to be just at the foot of the Grizzlies before the snow made it unwise to rear cattle. The dogs followed her around lazily, mostly sniffing at the cattle and begging for the hands’ lunch scraps. 

“Ms. Adler,” one told her as they picked at the last of their sandwiches and threw the crusts to the dogs, “You ever think of retiring? Goin’ somewhere warm for once?” 

Sadie scoffed, “So you can take over? I don’t think so.” She joked, lighting a cigarette. The hand laughed but still looked serious, tension hanging as he awaited an answer. 

She exhaled, eyeing him with some scrutiny and intrigue.“I reckon this business will run me t’ the ground. But if you want yer own place.” Sadie shrugged, “I’ll see if I can help.” 

He nodded. “I’ll remember that.” 

She smoked her cigarette and wondered if she’d make it to see the day. Maybe he would get her ranch. 

It was dark when Sadie returned to her home. She parked her truck in its spot underneath the ancient elm in the front yard. The waist-high fence wrapped it into the perimeter, each panel disturbed by roots that made them a row of uneven lichen-crusted teeth. 

The front gate let out a piercing squeal as she opened it and ushered the dogs through. She cursed the sound and closed it. Needed some lubricant. 

The front door was silent when it opened, thankfully, and Sadie walked through the carpeted living room to reach the garage for some WD-40. Something creaked in the house under the sounds of the dogs playing in the kitchen. 

She opened the door to the garage and was met with the nose of a pistol staring her down. Sadie let go of the door handle and lifted both her palms. The man behind the gun wasn’t familiar but the woman emerging from the shadows of the garage was. 

“You.” 

The woman lifted a thin, dark eyebrow. 

“What the fuck are you doing in my house.” 

“You have my gun.” The intruder answered. 

Sadie thought back to their encounter up at the gorge. Sure, she had it somewhere. Under the seat in her truck, or thrown into the creek on her property. She didn’t really remember what she’d done with it. 

“You stole my wallet a year ago.” She countered. 

The man behind the gun let out an incredulous guffaw. His scarred face couldn’t make up for the humor that emerged on his thin lips. He almost let down the gun. 

“Abby, the hell we doin’ here?” 

“Gettin’ my gun back.” 

Sadie dropped her hands. She wasn’t sure what to make of these people but ‘dangerous’ wasn’t something that came to mind. Maybe ‘stupid’ or ‘unprofessional.’ 

“Can I have my wallet back?” 

“That was a year ago.” 

By now the man had lowered his gun. He looked ready to argue with the woman called Abby, but she seemed the type to debate folks in circles until they tripped over their own feet. He wouldn’t stand a chance. 

In the kitchen, the dogs had gone silent. Sadie noticed a moment too late, though, as the sound of their bodies moving through the living room was muffled but audible. 

Fear dawned on the man’s face when Buddy emerged and immediately stiffened, the fur along his broad back immediately standing upright. He snarled and Missy was there with him, opening her mouth to yap at the intruders. Buddy barked, a deep and reverberating sound that shook people to the bone when he wished to do them harm. 

The man raised his gun again. 

“If you shoot my dogs I’ll reopen every one of them scars on your face, boy.” 

Sadie let the dogs continue to bark and threaten the two until, begrudgingly, the man lowered his gun once more. Sweat dripped from his hairline. 

“Buddy, Missy, go lie down.” She commanded them and pointed out of the room. They obeyed and disappeared. 

The man wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Can we go, Abigail?” 

“Christ, John, two pet dogs doin’ you in? I shoulda brought Arthur.” 

John curled his lip but said nothing. Sadie continued to watch the two, bewildered at how they found and broke into her house in the first place. 

“Look I don’t know where yer gun is.” She told them, staring down the dark-haired woman. “But y’all were up in Spider Gorge when I was.” 

“The hell you doin’ up there?” 

“Lookin’ for some folks. Ne'er-do-wells.” 

“You found ‘em.” John muttered under his breath, reaching to scratch the back of his neck. 

Sadie crossed her arms and chewed on the inside of her cheek while contemplating them. She smiled. “Nah. My husband weren’t killed by no bitches scared of dogs or wallet thieves.” 

“We’ll be going.” The man said. 

Abigail held out her arm to stop him. “You lookin’ for the O’Driscolls?” 

“Jesus, Abigail.” John said and pinched his face and scrunched his eyebrows. “We ain’t got time for this.” 

“The Driscolls were up at Spider Gorge?” 

John deadpanned ‘O’Driscolls.’ over Abigail’s reply. 

“Had to run them out. Grizzlies is our territory now.” 

“The fuck you gonna do with it?” 

“Ain’t no business of yours.” John told her and made his leave for real. 

“John has a tip to find the cowards who fled the camp. We can bring you along ‘n see if it’s them after we finish killin’ them.” 

“If it’s them you won’t have to kill them.” Sadie pushed behind Abigail to get into the garage. 

She opened the counter cabinet and crouched to fish out a few boxes of slugs. The boxes rattled as she dumped them out and filled her jacket pockets with the red plastics. 

“Why’s that?” 

“Cause I’ll kill ‘em for you.” She replied and zipped her pockets. The woman stood in the doorway of her home, arms crossed, leaning against the door frame as if she belonged there. She wore a leather jacket that had a single yellow smiley face button on the collar. 

“Your boyfriend’s gonna leave without us.” 

Abigail actually grinned. She pulled a tangle of keys from the jacket pocket and jingled them. “John don’t drive shit.” 

The woman tailed her out into the front yard and Sadie locked the house back up then unlocked her truck. The shotgun was still under the driver’s seat along with Abigail’s pistol. It didn’t seem special in any way to Sadie but she handed it off to Abigail without a word. 

“Where’s your car?” 

“About a mile west.” Abigail responded while tucking the pistol into the back waistband of her pants. “Didn’t want you to see us coming.” 

Sadie shrugged, “Guess it worked. Get in.” 

The truck engine roared to life quickly despite its age, and Abigail climbed into the cab next to her. Sadie hoped her usual mess of receipts and empty water bottles was more tame than usual but it didn’t seem the case. Abigail shifted her feet and something crinkled. 

They rolled up to John who was dutifully striding along by his lonesome out to the car. 

“Should we give him a lift?” 

Abigail giggled and Sadie felt herself going red. It hadn’t been that funny and it sure as hell wasn’t hot at ten thirty in the evening but she started sweating. She shrugged it off as anxiety. 

John lifted himself into the bed of the truck and slapped the side to let her know he was situated. They rolled along and despite her situation in the company of some armed trespassers, the night was beautiful. Crystal clear with a piercing cold that was definitely freezing off John’s extremities in the bed. Sadie could only imagine the lengths this man’s pettiness could reach when there was an entire back seat and he chose the bed so as not to speak to them. Abigail didn’t seem to mind. 

They came upon a dwarfed tree at the edge of Sadie’s property that twisted its ugly fingers accusingly at the sky. A frozen wind picked up. 

Underneath the tree was parked a white sedan, muddy and worn, paint chipped and rusted near the wheel wells so that the naked grey of the steel showed. 

“Alright, let’s go.” 

Sadie got into the back, sitting in the middle of the bench seat with her shotgun between her feet, nose of the barrel pointing at the roof. The space was uncomfortably cramped, her knees at her chest and the tip of her head brushing the ceiling. She couldn’t use the gun in this confined space but she had no need to. If these strangers were taking her to her death she found no reason to deny them. 

“So what’s this tip you have?” She spoke to the quiet car. 

John still seemed annoyed that Abigail’d brought her along, he laced his fingers together and apart and a frown tugged at the corner of his mouth. 

“Some cadaver come up on the outskirts of Strawberry. Knife wounds an’ missing wallet. Friend of mine told me she’d seen some new folk hangin’ ‘round day it happened. Make sense since the O’Driscolls fled down south. They’re hurtin’ for money.” 

Sadie rested the barrel of her shotgun against her shoulder as she leaned up to rest her elbows on her knees. She hummed thoughtfully. 

“They kill folks for pocket change?” 

“If that.” John said, “Sometimes for less.” 

“You ever kill anyone?” Abigail met her eyes in the rear view mirror. They were light colored and utterly piercing. 

Sadie cleared her throat, “No. Didn’t think I would before tonight, tell you what.” 

“Understandable. Hey, what’s your name?” 

“Adler. Sadie.” 

Abigail nodded her head in response. 

“How’d y’all find me, anyway?” 

“There’s an Adler Ranch sticker on the back of your truck.” Abigail told her. John snickered from the front seat. 

“Well I guess that explains it.” 

They passed into Strawberry in silence. White street lamps shed their light across Sadie’s lap in soothing intervals and had almost lulled her to sleep when Abigail parked the car along some side road. The lights of a 24 hour pharmacy lit up the other side of the street. 

They got out onto the sidewalk and not a soul was around. The cold night pressed down on them. 

John began to walk away from the main road, past the pharmacy, out into the buildings that began to thin like an aged man’s hair. 

“You reckon he knows where he’s goin’?” Abigail whispered to her easily. Sadie felt like she was supposed to laugh but there was a shotgun slung around her shoulder and the angel of vengeance whispering in the back of her mind so she could do nothing but smile nervously at Abigail. Even in the washed out light of the dimming streetlamps, she was a striking woman. Sadie tried not to stare for too long. 

John stopped at the edge of the block and waited for the two. He seemed distracted, angrily so. There were permanent wrinkles between his eyebrows that deepened and deepened. 

“They’re squatting up ahead.” He told them, leaning in to whisper. “Contact’s told me they have been since yesterday afternoon when we uprooted them.” 

“What do you want with them?” 

John wouldn’t meet her eyes, “It’s… a long story. We need to find their leader, ‘n we can only do that through the grunts.” 

“They’ll give up their leader?” 

“Not willingly.” John looked guilty. He said nothing more and led them closer to the abandoned house up the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to pick up, stay tuned


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning everyone, there’s some content warning for animal death at the tail end of the chapter (it’s not Sadie’s dogs, I won’t kill them off, I promise).
> 
> I’ve taken some liberties with embellishing Abigail’s personality because, let’s face it, r* doesn’t write their women too well. I amped up her bitch factor because I love her and she deserves it.

The house hunched in on itself in the dark. The chain link fence around it dwarfed the building and was topped with spirals of barbed wire. Sadie leaned against the wire to peer through it. They stared at the side of the house intently. 

“Any movement?” John whispered. He was crouched on the sidewalk with his gun drawn. Abigail stood over him and looked through the fence, her chin tilted up and lips parted in concentration. Dark flowering vines crept in from both sides of the fence, overgrown and untamed. 

Abigail replied with a curt, “No.” 

John cursed quietly, and Sadie could now tell what he was doing with the fence. He finished clipping the links and peeled the fence away so that they might fit through. 

“Why can’t we go through the front?” 

“Nosey fuckin’ neighbors got them home security systems. The ones that got cameras and shit.” John responded and Sadie followed him through the hole in the fence. “Never know if they’re watchin’.” 

They crossed the dead yard, barren of everything except stones and dried yellow grasses. Glass crunched under foot from a shattered window. The shards glinted in the orange streetlights. 

John pulled away what was left of the shattered window and threw it to the ground. He laid his overshirt on the sill to keep the broken class from getting in their palms and hoisted himself through the window. Abigail followed and Sadie took one look around the yard and vacant street before following suit. 

Sure, Sadie had taken to breaking the law as of recent, her own silent rebellion against the grief that controlled her, but there was a thrill to climbing through a window into someone’s house with literal fucking guns that made her hair stand up on end. She hated the allure of these things. Maybe Jake’s mother had been right about her all along. She was trouble. 

In the dusty hallway in front of her, John peered around a corner. His piece was drawn and he handled it far too casually. These weren’t ex-soldiers gone astray, they seemed to be closer to street kids who’d spent a lifetime doing shit like this. 

John mouthed to them in the darkness to split up. He made a circular motion with his fingers, either to indicate to meet back in this room or surveill the entire house. Sadie guessed she’d find out eventually. 

She took the hallway to her right. The house had wood paneling up the walls that’d gone out of style as soon as disco did, and horrible creaking floors that didn’t sound dissimilar to the music itself. At the end of the hallway was a bedroom filled, from what she could see, with heavy furniture and a fallen set of blinds halfway over the window. The orange light of the street lamp streamed through. 

When she stepped through the threshold a loud creak echoed through the house. She scanned the room with her gun raised and when she landed on the far corner, her blood ran cold. 

A man stood there, stock still like a mannequin contorted into some unnatural position. He had a backpack strap halfway up his arm, obviously making to leave, and a look of dawning horror on his face. 

Sadie, not in all the scenarios played out in her head during that silent car ride, actually anticipated running into someone. Let alone by herself, with a gun. But she looked at him harder and saw the long dark coat, and most importantly, the scarf draped around his shoulders that was an awful striped green. 

It wasn’t enough evidence, she knew this logically, but the feeling in her gut screamed at her. It clawed and cried out, a year of revenge boiling down there in her stomach, waiting to unload a shotgun into someone’s face. 

“You- it was you…” She stuttered, eyes searching wildly for the face of her husband’s killer that she did not know. The ghost of some figure in black picking through the remains of Jake’s car like a vulture. 

In a moment of stupor she lowered the shotgun. In a moment of weakness or perhaps logic she knew she couldn’t execute this man for his supposed crimes. 

He hoisted the backpack the rest of the way on his shoulder and slid open the window behind him without turning around. She watched him fold through it and leave as the footsteps of John and Abigail were behind her, rushing up to greet the sight. 

“O'Driscoll-“ John blurted and fired his gun at the escaping man. The bullet dug itself uselessly onto the wooden window trim, and the man was gone. 

He shot at a real person, one with his back turned, no less. What the hell was she thinking? She felt stupid all of a sudden, holding her shotgun as if she might use it. 

Sadie shook her head and tried to ignore the roar that rucked itself up in her head. 

“Fuck-“ John said, checking out the window then coming back to confront Sadie. “Fuck was that?” 

“Just a man.” She whispered to him. “It was just a fucking man.” 

John let out another string of curses and left the room, kicking discarded furniture into pieces at the walls. The woman was silent behind her. 

“I’m sorry, Abigail.” Sadie turned. Abigail had that scowl on her face, but it was just the regular, no added disappointment or contempt. 

Abigail shrugged. “Is what it is. Didn’t expect you to actually start killin’ people.” 

“Really?” 

“There’s more to it than you’d think. Unless you’re some kinda psychopath and I’m kinda glad you ain’t.” 

She scoffed. “Thanks, I guess.” 

Abigail nodded in response. “Anytime. Let’s go ‘fore John tears this place off its foundation.” 

They left through the same window they came through. John took his overshirt out of the window gingerly and shook it off. When the biggest bits of glass had flown off, he shrugged it back on. 

“You’re gone get glass in your skin.” Abigail told him, “You fuckin’ idiot.” 

John shot her a dirty look in response and Sadie nearly told him if he did that too much his face was gonna get stuck that way. She hadn’t seen a different expression cross his face once since meeting him. 

It was well past one in the morning, according to Sadie’s watch, and she desperately wanted to just sleep the day off. But they had to take the grueling twenty minute drive from Strawberry to the foot of the Grizzlies. She could sense the close to this impromptu relationship and brush with organized (as organized as it got around here, anyways) crime that might make for a good story when it was far in the past. Sadie couldn’t wait to get out of the shitty sedan Abigail drove that smelt of stale pot and an orange tiny tree air freshener. It swung two and fro over the dashboard. 

They passed into the outskirts of Strawberry. There were no street lamps here, just a pair of yellow lines to give them guidance. In the distance was a gas station. That gas station. Sadie closed her eyes so she didn’t have to watch it pass by. The car slowed. 

“Stop. Abby, stop.” John sounded frantic and he all but crawled out the car window. 

Guns fired and Sadie still just wanted it to stop. 

“Adler.” Abigail addressed her. “Adler?” 

“Mmhmm.” She responded and hugged the shotgun closer to her chest. Temptation came for her and she opened her eyes to look at Abigail. Then she was looking out the window at John, who held up his pistol and squeezed the trigger. Across the gas station, Sadie saw a man’s head explode like ripe fruit. 

“Oh, God.” She shrunk down into her seat, hand over her mouth. She felt sick. “Oh Jesus.” 

The car door swung open and the car shifted as John got in. 

“Let’s go.” He told her. 

The car shifted into gear and began its roll. “Glad you said so.” Abigail responded, “Woulda sat there with my thumb up my ass ‘til the fuzz arrived.” 

John let out a sigh, “Shut up.” 

They bickered back and forth, seemingly unaware of their visitor in the back seat and Sadie really hoped this wasn’t the part where they dumped her body on some back road where only the vultures would find her. The car rolled on, farther and farther from any sign of other people. 

Sadie wasn’t sure what to do if they were actually taking her back to the ranch. See Davies, obviously. Vigilante justice didn’t seem to suit her. She did her best to shoot her shot but it still might land her dead in a creek, floating along until she washed out on a pasture somewhere. Being spared to continue on her mortal coil would be a second chance. She’d clean up her act, maybe make amends with Jake’s mother. She’d help that hand start his own ranch like he wanted. 

Abigail’s stern face was suddenly staring directly at her. The car was stopped. 

“You’re here.” The woman repeated. 

Sadie peered out the window. Her truck was parked next to the dead tree. It seemingly glowed in the moonlight, its white body ghostly. 

“Oh.” 

The freezing night air was welcome. Anything to be out of that damned car. She took a last look at Abigail and felt a twinge of regret filled between the overwhelming stink of fear. John looked bored. His gun was on the dashboard, probably still warm. 

Abigail rolled down the window. “Sorry we couldn’t find who you were lookin’ for.” She looked like she meant it. 

Numbly, Sadie nodded her head and tried not to look like she was about to rat on them to Davies. 

Abigail took one last look at her and rolled up the window. They drove off and Sadie watched until they were out of view down the road. 

She ran to her truck, hands shaking as she unlocked it, and climbed in. The truck started and she punched open the glove box as she swerved out onto the dirt road. Her cell phone came tumbling out along with a year’s worth of garbage and unsorted registrations. 

“Fuck-“ 

It bounced off the seat and into the sea of crumpled receipts. 

“Fuck.” Sadie checked that the road was clear before ducking below the dash to grope amongst the trash for her phone. Her hand latched onto its smooth form and she pulled it up, immediately dialing 911 with her thumb. Satisfied, she brought the phone to her ear and listened to the tone. It rang and rang and in the distance, below the hill, came an orange glow. 

The truck stopped at the crest of the hill. 

A small voice piped up from her phone, “West Grizzlies County Sheriff’s Department. What’s your emergency?” 

She heard it loud and clear but couldn’t utter a sound. Her ranch, all of what she could see, was alight with fire. 

It razed the distant barn and consumed the grasses with unmatched hunger. This wasn’t fire season. This wasn’t natural. She couldn’t think of the cattle and their screams as the barn collapsed in on them, no place to escape but the open sky. She smelt the smoke even inside her car. 

The remains of her house were still alight, though calming down now, and the truck tore down the hill and into the yard. The picketed fence shattered like a punch to the mouth. Teeth scattered in a spray of earthen blood. 

Sadie got out and ran to the house, her phone lay completely forgotten on the chair. Smoke pressed a firm and rough hand to her throat but she pushed in through the nightmarish house. Wood had gone easily, along with the carpet and curtains. The kitchen to her left was left blackened but free of flame. The living room and garage still smouldered and burnt. There was an intense heat coming from behind the closed garage door. 

She pushed her shoulder through what was left of the screen door into the backyard. The vegetables somehow seemed untouched, as did most of the yard, mismatched lawn chairs included. 

Something drew her attention to the corner of the yard. Partially obscured by a leafy root vegetable were her two dogs. They whined and barked when they saw her, calling for help in the only way they knew how. 

Sadie fell to her knees and held out her arms and the dogs engulfed her. Their motions were small and timid, afraid that anything too much might bring the house down on them again. Buddy’s muzzle was covered in soot. 

“C’mon.” She told them and urged them through the house. They resisted at first, but as in their nature, followed Sadie wherever she went. 

Once they were locked in the truck she went back in, tying Buddy’s old ratty bandana around her mouth. The smoke stung her eyes. 

There wasn’t much left to grab in the house. Not when the fire in the garage roared just one room away. 

Sadie found an old jacket still hanging on its hook next to the kitchen. Underneath that, a dog leash. Below them both was an old pair of boots. 

She carried them out with a plastic gallon of water that hadn’t burst in the heat. There was a stash of rolled money behind a charred ceramic chicken hanging in the wall. The cavern of its inverted stomach nestled the bundle of bills, and Sadie turned it back over to stare at it momentarily. 

Jake had made it, in one of his pottery sessions, painted it a garish red and brown and insisted on hanging it in their kitchen. 

Something broke in the garage. It cracked and splintered and the wall came down ungracefully, exposing the flames still roaring within. The heat shocked her and the ceramic rooster fell from her hands. It shattered on the ground and the pieces went flying into the rubble of her burnt house. 

Sadie pocketed the roll of money and scrambled to pick up the things she’d saved. 

When she made it back to her truck, the rest of the house collapsed in on itself. She watched it in the rear view mirror as she drove away.


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone say thank you to my essay final I’ve procrastinated on so hard I ended up writing this instead. 
> 
> And regarding current events since I’m using every platform I have to speak out: happy pride month, fuck the police, support our Black siblings ( https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/ ). 
> 
> Thank you for reading <3

“What are you thinkin’ about?” 

Abigail snapped her attention away from the road and looked over to John. He held his handgun in between his palms, thumbs worrying at the crevices in the metal. 

“What?” 

John shrugged, “Looked like you were thinkin.’” 

“Guess I was. You reckon that lady’s gonna be okay?” 

“I think we scared her off.” 

Abigail grunted with barely concealed laughter. “I think you done scared her off when you killed that fuckin’ man. Y’know people don’t normally see that shit.” 

“Yeah.” He agreed, quiet, “I forget sometimes.” 

They drove in silence. A deer bounded across the road and Abigail slowed to keep from hitting it. It watched them with black eyes then turned and went on its way. 

•••

Sadie woke up with a crick in her neck and the scent of woodsmoke in her nostrils. The coat she’d saved was bundled under her head in a makeshift pillow and she could feel the creases it left pressed on her skin. She lifted her hands and looked at them against the roof of the truck. They were covered in black smudges and little cuts. 

“Fuck.” 

She dropped her hands to her chest and sat up. The back seat was no place to sleep comfortably but the dogs had taken the front bench and she’d been desperate to fall as unconscious as possible after pulling onto the shoulder of a dirt road somewhere outside Strawberry. A gust of wind shook the cabin on its wheels.

The truck door creaked when she opened it and the dogs bounded out to find the best tree to piss on. 

Sadie tried to keep the memories from the night before from smothering her all at once and it worked, for a while. She drove herself and the dogs into town, taking the silence of the morning as a sign to slow down. Appreciate the in-between moment. Where she is no one, not even recognizable to herself. The blinding white light of the morning sky was a clean slate. 

She parked in the lot of a hardware store and went into the adjacent deli for a sandwich that she never ended up touching. The kid working the counter had given her an odd look, probably because she smelt like the pits of hell, but said nothing to her. There was a near empty pack of smokes in her glove box and she kept the driver’s door open to light one. Her feet rested on the truck’s runner and she rested her elbows on her knees and soon the motion of dragging the cigarette became automatic. It became therapeutic and she could smell in the smoke the promise of amnesia if she let it kill her. 

The fire burst from her memories and into her eyes and the panic shot through her veins. It twisted itself through the ligaments in her hands and feet and there was nothing she could do but embrace it. 

What now? 

The people who burned her ranch to the ground were out there. They’d come and gone with destruction just as they did with Jake. The choice, not the only choice but the one most likely to bear fruit, were the trespassers. The man and the woman who’d spent their whole lives on the run. The man who’d killed a person without a second thought. Brain splattered onto the wall of the gas station like a horrible aerosol paint splotch. It was violent and terrible and maybe Sadie would end up with a hole in her head just like it. 

And the woman, her hands still danced up Sadie’s ass in that bar a year ago. Her lost wallet and that violent reunion over the gorge. 

“Hey there.” 

Sadie didn’t need to look up. She didn’t even need to make the choice; it seemed the universe or the Almighty or something had enough of her indecision and made it for her. 

A small smile danced on Abigail’s thin mouth. She looked bashful but Sadie knew better. The little yellow button on her jacket grinned up at Sadie. 

“What are you doin’ here?” 

“Hardware.” Abigail held up a paper bag for emphasis. “Someone needed somethin’ somethin’ valve and a combination wrench.” 

“Kind of you.” 

“Yeah. One of our guys told me they’d seen you here, too. Blonde ranch lady who’d seen better days, he says, so I figure it’s you. O’Driscolls?” 

Sadie shrugged, head resting on her palm while her fingers pinched a cigarette. The tip was dangerously close to her skin. 

“Reckon so. They hit my ranch last night. Ain’t nothin’ left but ashes.” 

There wasn’t a response and Sadie very nearly thought the woman had left. She looked up and Abigail was scratching Buddy’s head poking out of the back seat. His great pink tongue lolled and slobbered. Sadie watched them, stubbing out the end of her cigarette on the sole of her boot. She lit another. 

“Got somewhere to go?” 

Sadie shrugged herself up to rest against the seat, “Sure. I know the sheriff. He’ll figure somethin’ out for me. My ranch hands are outta work so I should provide, not to mention the whole insurance deal. I’ll hold up in a hotel room somewhere and wait ‘till it all blows over.” 

“But you don’t wanna wait.” Abigail told her, “For them wheels to turn. These men are ghosts, Ms. Adler, they ain’t gettin’ caught by no sheriff.” 

“I know.” 

Abigail looked around the parking lot a moment before leaning in close. Sadie smelt the perfume she wore. Something faintly floral mixed with fresh linen. 

“Ms. Adler, does anyone know you’re here?” 

Sadie raised her eyebrows. She wished it was in disbelief but it was exactly what she’d been turning around in her brain for the last twelve hours. 

“No, I… I think I’ve been in shock. Ain’t no one around to help me right now. I ain’t even think the fire department been out there yet.” The high school aged deli worker didn’t seem to recognize her. She and Jake had helped out the local FFA chapters but he seemed to be more of the computer type. As far as she knew, she was dead to the world, high schoolers included. 

“Tell you what.” The woman said, “You hold off tellin’ the pigs and we’ll find them boys who burned down your ranch. I know not everyone’s got the stomach for these things but maybe it’ll help you sleep at night.” 

The gears in Sadie’s brain turned her words over. They sprouted one thousand questions and one thousand answers for each question. Eventually, she settled. 

“Why are you helpin’ me?” 

Abigail smiled, “When I needed help weren’t nobody there but myself. I don’t want to see an upstanding citizen such as yourself get lost.” 

There wasn’t a reply Sadie could give her. Nothing felt adequate for the complete stranger who rounded the truck and held a slender hand on the door handle. 

“Will your dogs attack me if I get in?” 

“I reckon not.” She told her, mustering nothing short of a deadpan. 

Abigail got into the truck. 

“I’ll direct you.” 

Sadie did nothing to move save to take another drag of her cigarette. She studied the woman the best she could. 

“What about your car?” 

“I’ll get one of the boys to pick it up. Yer dogs aren’t gonna bite me?” 

Sadie stubbed her cigarette on the asphalt and turned the engine over. “No. They ain’t guard dogs no more.” 

•••

It was pretty much what she expected. An old, dilapidated house on the fringes of the Valentine suburbs. They drove on a skinny two way road between the last of the suburban houses and fields long since abandoned. Sadie’s chest clenched when she thought back to her own land. 

Abigail pointed to the left, at a once yellow house, the lot dominated by a dark wooden barn behind it. 

“Pull behind that barn.” 

She obliged and turned onto the dirt road leading up to the house. A hill flanked the far end of the field and the buildings were nestled closely at the base. It rocked the truck to drive over the potted lawn and they bounced in their seats. 

There were several other cars parked in the barn as well as one along the side. They were all nondescript, plain colored and common models. Just like the white sedan back at the hardware store. 

“How many of you are there?” 

Abigail grumbled under her breath, “Enough.” And climbed down from the truck. “You should take that off.” She pointed to the sticker on Sadie’s rear window. ‘Adler Ranch’ with the year established and a logo they’d hired some graphic arts student to design. 

“Right now?” 

“‘Fore you forget. You know it’s how the O’Driscolls found you. If John could find you anyone can.” 

Sadie almost laughed, but pulled a coin from her pocket and scratched at the sticker. The truck door shut again and Buddy and Missy rounded the bed to stand by her, tails wagging against her jeans. She pulled the last of the plastic off and pocketed it. There was a bit of adhesive left over but she could live with that. 

“Alright then.” Abigail told her, “You ready to meet the family?” 

Suddenly a thought lit up in Sadie’s head as little puzzle pieces fell into place. She snapped her fingers and grinned proudly. “The mob. Y’all are in the mob.”

Abigail looked at her blankly for what seemed like an entire minute before the wheels of her brain finally made sense of what Sadie was saying. Then she snorted with laughter. “This ain’t The Godfather. But that makes it easier, sure.” 

The porch to the house was quaint, filled with hanging wind chimes made of beer bottles and broken glass. There were several store bought ones as well but they didn’t carry quite the same charm. White paint flaked off the old wooden handrails. The whole thing could really do with a sanding and a new coat. Sadie shooed away the voice of Jake before he could suggest more home improvement. 

Abigail took a key from her pocket and fiddled it onto the lock. A rooster crowed from behind the house. The door swung open and Buddy and Missy rushed in behind Abigail as if they’d arrived home. 

A man sitting at a couch with a few cards in hand looked up from the game and dipped his head in greeting. 

“Abigail.” 

He looked unconcerned with the dogs that ran up to him, noses working a million miles an hour, tails wagging cautiously. He held out a hand and the tail speed picked up. Missy licked his hand with enthusiasm. 

Kneeling in front of the coffee table was a little boy of about six, formerly engrossed in the card game with the man. It shocked Sadie, but what got her even more was when the boy turned around with a toothy grin and yelled ‘mommy!’ and engulfed Abigail with his small arms. 

Abigail knelt and picked him up, swinging him around in her hug. 

“Oh Jack, I’m so glad to see you.” She told him, and held him close. His sandy hair was the only thing visible over her shoulder. 

“Dogs.” He piped up, “Mommy, are those your dogs?” 

She set him back down and Buddy broke away from the man to approach Jack. He stretched out his broad head to sniff the child’s offered hand. He gave it a single lick, to Jack’s delight, and was crushed in the overbearing hug of a six year old. 

“Well you can’t get rid of them now even if you wanted to.” Abigail said, crossing her arms and watching her son trying to get the dogs to sit. 

Sadie couldn’t do much but stare. “That’s yer boy?”

“Mmhm. Jack.” 

The man at the coffee table rose and approached them. 

He looked to Abigail with suspicion.“Who’s this?” 

“Sadie Adler.” Sadie told him, and held out a hand. 

He looked at her and took it, and while his hands were rough, his grasp was gentle. “Arthur Morgan. I hope Abigail has a damn good reason bringin’ in a stranger.” 

“Oh, Ms. Adler ain’t a stranger. We’ve known each other for about a year now, ain’t we?” 

“I reckon so.” Was all she could say.


	6. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait. This was a bitch to write and it’s really a transitionary chapter I could’ve written it fifty other ways. Anyways have a great weekend y’all I appreciate your support

Sadie looked up at herself in the mirror. It was spotted with water and needed a good scrubbing but it couldn’t hide the fatigue on her face. Or the fact that she felt as if she was cutting her life up, piece by piece, and feeding it to the dogs. It felt as if everything was spiraling out of control but she was the one at the wheel. 

She’d slept on the couch in some borrowed sweatpants. All rooms of the house were already filled with people and even though Abigail offered, Sadie felt weird about sharing a room with the woman and her son. 

It unsettled her, though she didn’t want to admit it. The sweet and innocent face of a boy, blissfully unaware of who these people were. 

Sadie splashed her face with water and changed back into her street clothes. The stink of smoke rose up from the fabric but she wasn’t sure what to do about it at the moment. She’d stubbornly argued with herself all night to stay here, not flee back to the other world, where her husband's murderer would likely sleep peacefully every night knowing the sheriff's department was miles behind his footsteps.

She took a breath and left the bathroom. Most folks were cleared out of the house. The old man Sadie’d met previous was passed out on a ratty recliner, cup of cold coffee in his hand. The kitchen was empty of anyone so she scrounged herself up a sandwich. Abigail had told her to help herself to the food, and it seemed like there was enough no one would notice if something small went missing. And by enough, it looked as if each member of the house went grocery shopping on the same day without consulting another soul. The amount of peanut butter jars in the pantry was ungodly. They would survive on them if society were to collapse tomorrow. 

A sliding glass door connected the kitchen to the outside yard. Both Buddy and Missy had slept on the small wooden porch and they were thrilled to see her finally emerge from the house. She scratched behind their twitching ears. A scratchy patch of yellow lawn occupied the center of the fenced dirt lot. Wrapping around to the back, Sadie found someone showing Jack how to feed a small flock of chickens. 

The man held a sack of feed on his hip and gave Jack handfuls of grain to scatter into the dirt. The chickens followed eagerly and flapped at their feet. That pain came up in her chest again when she watched the birds. A small vegetable garden grew along the wooden fence. 

“Hi, Ms. Adler!” Jack called, waving his little hand, his other getting pecked to death but he didn’t seem to mind. 

Sadie waved back with the hand unoccupied by sandwich. 

“Feed the chickens!” He told her, accepting more feed from the man. Jack held up his cupped hands overflowing with grain. 

She approached him and took a small handful. The chickens hopped up at her hands, their little beaks eager and sharp. 

“What are their names?” 

“This one’s Billy. Billy Midnight.” He pointed to a buff hen scratching at the ground. 

“Black Belle.” He pointed to a black one. 

Jack rattled off a couple more names that sounded vaguely familiar, but Sadie was distracted by the man holding the feed bag. 

“You slept on the couch last night.” She told the stranger. 

He looked sheepish. “Could say the same to you.” 

Sometime past midnight, after she’d settled into sleep, he had creeped in and passed out on the second couch in the room. He’d been in the same clothes he wore now, and they were wrinkled in all the wrong places to prove it. Sadie had tried to ignore his snoring and tried to press herself deeper into that couch, blanket pulled as far up as it could go without leaving her feet cold. It smelt of Abigail; of that perfume she wore. 

“But I don’t live here.”

The man nodded, then held out a hand. “Javier.” 

Sadie took it and shook. “Sadie. I’m, um, a friend of Abigail’s.” 

Javier nodded again in understanding. “Looks like John’s finally wore her down.” 

“Pardon?” 

“John. He’s been sayin’ she needs to find someone for a while now.” 

“Oh.” She looked up to see Jack leading the chickens closer to the vegetable garden. “Ain’t like that. John and Abigail ain’t together?” 

“You’ve met him?” The man grinned a little, “No they ain’t. Used to be. We’ve got little Jack for proof but uhh-“ He shrugged. “They found some things out. Grew up. Still bicker like an old married couple, though.” 

Sadie laughed. She wished she would feel nervous around the man, around this house, but something about his open conversation and the quaintness of it all set her whirling mind at ease. 

“I doubt that’s why she brought me. Besides I’m not-“ She grimaced, “She’s pretty. But I’m, ain’t-“ The words wrapped around in her mouth but they were too large to articulate, too awkward and misshapen. “My husband just passed.” She ended up telling him, “Last winter.”

He looked awkward but offered up a genuine, “I’m sorry for your loss.” 

Sadie just nodded and watched Jack pick several small and under ripe vegetables from the garden and scatter them to the birds. They lunged for them like creatures possessed. 

“I got into an argument with John. Came home late and he’d locked the door on me.” He confessed. “‘S why I slept on the couch.” 

Sadie nodded again, eyes unfocused, just listening to the buzz of the noon air. 

“Your dogs are well trained.” Javier told her after a beat of silence. 

“Yeah, they are.” She looked down to them, both laying at her feet and watching Jack and the chickens. 

“If they weren’t I’d have to shoot them.” 

Sadie felt like he wasn’t just thinking of a few dead chickens. 

Javier then offered the feed bag to her, not with question. “I know you’re the ranch lady. I need to get dressed.” 

Sadie took the bag, muttering ‘sure’ and turned her attention back to Jack. She threw her sandwich crusts to the dogs who inhaled them without chewing. 

“So, Jack…” 

The kid was in the dirt again, seemingly pulling weeds from the little fenced garden. 

“Where’s your ma?” 

Jack shrugged, “On a trip. She told me to tell you she’ll be back tomorrow.” 

“Oh. What kind of trip?” 

The kid shrugged again. “A trip.” And it seemed he needed no other explanation. 

When the afternoon rolled around Sadie found herself in a card game with the big man, Arthur, and a pretty younger woman they called Tilly. And Jack, of course. It’s to work on his numbers, she was told. 

“Arthur tells me you’re a rancher.” 

Sadie nodded and set a card on the table. A three of clubs to match the five of clubs before it. Some game Jack taught her. 

“Unfortunately those days might be behind me.” She responded. Tilly nodded in understanding. 

“Well, we have Javier’s chickens out back of you ever get homesick.” 

A small laugh died in her throat but the smile was still there. She felt warmth, of all things, nestle itself in her chest as these strange people took her in like a faithful host would. Like she married into their family and they were welcoming her in their own awkward ways. Some hole that Jake’s family left began to get shallower.


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit it’s been a while since the last update. I got a job and shit now and I’m tired. Falling asleep as I write this zzzzzz

Arthur and Sadie stood on the front porch, listening to the wind chimes rattling, passing a cigarette back and forth and letting the afternoon wind blow their bothersome thoughts away. 

Sadie learned quickly Arthur wasn’t around much. Still, he was the one she spent most of her time with, and she’d be lying if she didn’t say they got along the easiest. Both folk of few words and a diseased desire for vengeance or violence or maybe just some peace and quiet. 

A car rolled past them and back around the house to the barn. Abigail’s in, with John and a couple others Sadie doesn’t recognize yet. She waits with Arthur for them to come back around the front. 

“I ain’t gonna ask why they were gone,” Sadie told him, “But they’re still after them O’Driscoll’s, right?” 

The big man shrugged, “Couldn’t tell you for sure. Though if what they’re doin’ makes you queasy you might be barkin’ up the wrong tree, here, Ms. Adler.” 

Sadie sighed, taking a last pull from the cigarette and stubbing it out on the railing. “I know. I ain’t no rat, though, so if I leave I’m takin’ it to my grave, Mr. Morgan.” 

“That’s what I like to hear.” 

Abigail was on the porch then, blue eyes bright and striking in the light. 

“I’ll talk to you after the meeting.” She told Sadie, and Sadie couldn’t help the drop of her heart at the smile Abigail gave her. They vanished into the house, dragging Arthur along with them. She had no business getting into their affairs and, for now, that’s the way she liked it to be. 

An hour later Abigail reappeared on the porch. The remains of several cigarettes were now crushed in a blue China ashtray that Arthur offered to her. It might’ve been pretty, once. 

“How are you doin’?” Abigail asked her. 

She leaned her back against the railing and crossed her feet at the ankles. She shrugged. “Feels like a fuckin’ nightmare, right truthful.” Sadie reached for another cigarette and lit it swiftly. 

“Feels like everything I am…” A cloud of smoke escaped her mouth as she spoke, “Is gone. Up in flames with the fuckin’ heifers.” She flicked the cigarette against the ashtray with more force than was necessary, feeling Abigail’s eyes on her, her sharp gaze inescapable. 

“No one knows where I am.” Sadie looked up to meet Abigail’s gaze and willed herself to keep from crying. She willed a lot of things but this one was important. 

The other woman stepped forward to hug Sadie. The scent of Abigail and her shape in Sadie’s arms offered her comfort though she couldn’t place why. She held on for dear life. 

“We’ll get you through this.” Abigail whispered to her, “We’ll make that sumbitch pay, Ms. Adler, I promise you.” She rubbed circles into Sadie’s smoke-stained clothes. 

When the feelings subsided, Sadie pulled away from Abigail. She fought with a different set of feelings when Abigail gave her a gentle smile, but she wasn’t needing to be making a fool of herself just yet. 

“Why don’t we find you some fresh clothes. You been smelling like a wildfire for days, now.” The woman began to guide her into the house and Sadie let her take the lead. “You might fit into Karen’s things but she’s out and I don’t want my hair cut off in my sleep ‘cause she finds out her favorite pair of jeans done gone missing. Tilly’s just a little thing and I don’t think Mary-Beth’s clothes are quite your speed. I think John might’ve left some shit behind.” She concluded through the doorway and plopped Sadie onto her neatly made bed. 

Sadie looked down at the nightstand as Abigail began to pillage her own closet. There was a small dish of gold jewelry sitting on the top. Elegant, uncomplicated things of polished metal. An empty bottle of iced tea, a dying houseplant, and a small picture frame of dark wood. 

Dingy blue curtains covered the window and its view of the barn, but dim sea-like light reached the floor, lapping at the carpet like waves. 

She picked the picture frame up and looked at the photograph. It was, to no surprise, Abigail holding her son, small and swaddled in a patterned flannel blanket. Marston was there, too. They both looked like kids, excited and hopeful, a hospital bracelet on Abigail’s wrist signifying she’d just given birth. His hair was shorter, and he looked cleaner and less depressed than the current moody creature Sadie saw haunting the house. Abigail looked the same, beautiful and regal, like she was conceived to guide others. 

“That’s a nice photo.” Sadie said when Abigail approached. “Marston looks like a boy scout.” 

Abigail snorted. 

“You mind if I ask what happened?” 

“Had a feeling I’d tell you eventually.” The woman told her, and sat by her side on the bed. 

“We were young and stupid, as it goes. We thought it was love and no one told us otherwise. When Jack came I don’t think I'd ever seen a man so afraid.” Abigail’s face contorted into an emotion Sadie would never feel. 

“He had doubts about family, I knew that. He finally told me he couldn’t do it anymore. Up and disappeared for a year. Arthur ‘n’ Dutch never let him forget it.” 

“Do you?”

“Hell no. He can’t decide when he wants to be a father to his son. Far as I’m concerned, the boy was doin’ just fine without him. We’s got good men, here.” 

“He don’t need no daddy. He’s got a strong mama here.” 

“Sometimes I worry I ain’t enough.” 

“Ms. Roberts, far as I seen, you’re more than enough.” 

Abigail’s slender hand touched Sadie’s gently. “Thank you, Ms. Adler.” The woman’s voice, hiding a back country twang, soft like a freshly made bed, firm like a mentor’s hand, told her more than words ever could. 

She withdrew her hand and stood, clearing her throat and tossing onto the bed the clothes she’d dug out. 

“John’s always been a little skinny but he’s your height, so…” 

Sadie shrugged and picked the clothes up. 

“Oh, I won’t look.” Abigail told her and moved to the other side of the bed, blush peeking out on her cheeks before she faced the other direction. Sadie laughed. 

“So you n’ John is friends still?” She shrugged off her jacket and was met with the scent of a teenage arsonist. She’d have to shower soon as the chance presented itself. 

There was a hint of disdain in Abigail's neutrality. “Yeah. He keeps up with Jack when he feels it.” 

Sadie scoffed and tugged her shirt off as well. “Never was agreeable with men. They’s just different.” 

“Like the goddamn world spins cause they let it.” 

She laughed and pulled on the shirt, a faded black longed sleeve with a construction logo on the back. It smelt of mothballs and faintly of men’s soap. Better than woodsmoke and sweat, though. The jeans had a hole in one knee but they fit over her boots so there was no real complaint. 

She finished changing and walked around to Abigail, arms held out in question. 

“I look like a good fer nothin’ fella?” 

Abigail pursed her lips in a sarcastic little smile and nodded. “Just my type. You fill it well, Ms. Adler.” 

She turned away to roll up the sleeves in an attempt to hide the unwelcome grin on her face. 

“Not too late to try somethin’ new...” Sadie mused, “Tell me about your trip.” 

The woman stood and paced around the bedroom. “We was up in Strawberry. Scouted a house fulla O’Driscoll’s— your fellers might be there. We’re gone take you tonight, pick ‘em off while the rest are out gettin’ drunk.” 

“Who else?” 

“Me ‘n you, Arthur, his man Charles. Another who ain’t gonna miss drinking.” 

Sadie nodded, sitting back on the bed to pull her boots on. From her side, Abigail brushed some lint off her shoulder, mouth pulled into a thoughtful frown. 

“We’re gone have to get you some new clothes, Ms. Adler.” 

The heel of her boot thumped against the carpet as she set it down. 

“Why are y’all helpin’ me?” 

“You’re in pain.” Abigail brushed a final sweep down her back. “Ain't that a good enough reason to help anybody?” 

“I suppose. Though I don’t know what I have to offer when y’all come collectin.’” 

“Sadie, look at me.” Abigail placed her chilled hands on the side of Sadie’s face. “We ain’t gonna collect. We ain’t gone leave you nowhere. You’re safe with us.” 

Sadie stared at the other woman, taking in her angled face, freckled skin, thoughtful eyes. She searched the face for a falsehood, a white lie that would finally send Sadie back into reality where Davies, Jake’s family, and the boy at the deli shop lived. She felt a single desire well up in her chest like a needle, and she couldn’t move lest she burst something important. 

She ended up dropping her eyes to the floor, and her heart clenched as Abigail pulled away. 

••• 

Later that evening, right as the sun began to drag over the horizon, Sadie waited with Arthur for their little posse to show up. They traded Abigail’s white sedan for some new car Arthur had wrangled up here for this task. Once the O’Driscoll’s seen a car, they ain’t forget about it so fast, Arthur told her. 

They were joined by Abigail, then who Sadie assumed was Charles and their fifth party member. 

“Abigail, Lenny.” Arthur told her, nodding his head to the younger of the two men. 

They drove in silence, mostly. Lenny sat up front with Arthur only because he insisted on playing with the radio. Something about Arthur’s music bothered him, but Sadie couldn’t quite make out what it was after the kid started listing out technicalities and genres. It all sounded the same to her, but she thought it was mostly to piss off Arthur, who grumbled about his station being changed. 

“We’re parking about half a mile out then moving in on them.” Arthur told her over the music, making eye contact with her in the rear view mirror. I’ll give you a gun and we’ll be on our way. 

Sadie nodded back, nerves prickling in her throat. It was warm, seated between Abigail and Charles but she tried not to think about it, about another gun in her hand, another person killed at the gas station with a bullet to their skull. She felt sick. 

“Alright, Ms. Adler.” Arthur presented her with a shotgun. “Buckshot. Probably won’t kill ‘em, but don’t miss.” 

“I won’t.” She returned and pulled the strap over her shoulder. The little pistol she owned was tucked away in the waistband of her jeans. Problem was, all of her guns were legally acquired. If the weapon registered under her name suddenly turned up, her hope of staying off the grid while her task went underway and unnoticed was all but shattered. It was a last resort, of course. 

“Are we just killin’ these folk?” 

“The idea is to get them scared,” Lenny explained and handed her a bandana, worn light blue, “Ideally we’ll let a few go to tell the others we ain’t planning on fucking around anymore.” The others pulled their bandanas on to cover their faces. 

Arthur chuckled, “Shoulda had you here when this all started, Lenny. Would’ve made much better time.” 

They reached the house. It was obvious Arthur and Charles were no amateurs. Not that Abigail and Lenny were, they just lacked the practiced routine that the older men slipped easily into. 

“This is it.” Arthur told her, and kicked in the door. 

The first man to pull a gun Arthur knocked out swiftly with the butt of his rifle. Sadie followed him in, keeping her aim on the other O’Driscoll in the room. A young man with hard eyes that held nothing but hate in them. 

“Search the place.” Arthur barked, nodding his head at Lenny and Abigail. 

He held an O’Driscoll at the end of his shotgun barrel. “Where’s Colm?” 

“Waitin’ for you in hell, cowboy.” The O’Driscoll spat onto the ground, teeth bared. “The fuck you doin’ here?” 

“To set a fire under your ass, boy. Should get that old man runnin.’ He’s closer to the grave than he thinks.” 

“I’ll let him know.” 

There were gunshots from the other room. Sadie darted to the doorframe to see Lenny and Abigail approaching. 

“Onna then jumped us, had to put him down.” There’s blood on Abigail’s shirt and Sadie hoped it wasn’t hers. Abigail nodded her over to Arthur and the man on his knees. 

“Ask him ‘fore we let ‘im go..”

Sadie approached him, cautious as if he were a snake curled up in her path. 

“You-“ her voice faltered. She felt the eyes of the others on her. “Who killed my husband?” 

The O’Driscoll rolled his pale eyes, “Narrow it down, sweetheart.” 

Arthur shoved the gun at his face, pushing the end of the cold metal into his cheek. “Hey now-“ 

But Sadie pressed on, “Killed in his car. Couple miles passed a gas station out in Ambarino.” 

“Oh, oh.” The man said, and exaggerated a thinking grimace. She noticed then the scarring along his lips. His chipped teeth and discolored skin from a hard life. 

“It was snowy, wasn’t it?” 

“It’s Ambarino.” She took her time to adjust the shotgun strap around her shoulder and catch the bandit’s face in her iron sights. 

The O’Driscoll scoffs. “Y’Know what? I did kill yer husband. Me’n another fella we don’t run with no more. And,” he looked around, as if someone else would reprimand him for this confession. “He didn’t say a word. The car were all smashed up and he was dyin’ anyways, there was blood ‘n’ guts everywhere.” 

“Why?” Sadie’s whole body was numb. It was as if she was on fire, or dying there on the frozen blacktop with Jake. 

“‘Cause we could, bitch. I’ll get your—“ 

The man never got to finish his sentence. Sadie pulled the trigger of the shotgun and sent a shell of buckshot through the gangster’s head. 

It met the wall some five feet behind him and stained the wall in a great web of brain matter and shrapnel. 

She dropped to her knees and began to cry.


End file.
